Lab Specimen I
by Superficial Faith
Summary: This is how I became the monster I am today. This is the story of my life... A perspective on Alucard's life when being experimented on. ON HIATUS.
1. Experiment I

Revised: 1.12.07

**Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to its respective creator and companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

"_I think that in the end we will come to a set of simple universal laws of nature, laws that we cannot explain."_

-Steven Weinberg, _"Can Science Explain Everything? Anything?"_

Humans are funny creatures, most not even realizing that they are just pawns in the game called "life"—that they are only a food source for monsters—monsters like myself. They are the elixir of life that sustains the ones that are already dead—or at least that's my take on it. But then there are the exceptions; the rare delicacies. However, they are all too few and far between.

My master is one of these scarce exceptions, but then again, so are pretty much all of the other direct descendents of those carrying the Hellsing family name. However, my master is quite different than all the other masters I've had before her. Yes, she is _quite _different, but not just because she is female, though I have to admit, that _is _the most notable difference. Well, that and her skin tone, seeing as her mother was of a different ethnicity. But that's besides the point. My point is that she is one of the most capable masters I've had since Abraham Van Helsing himself. She's sharp, intuitive, quick-witted, and can spout out insults at me like there is no tomorrow when I'm being difficult (which, I admit, is practically all the time). Yes, she's definitely inherited her great-grandfather's wit. But I'm getting off topic. I always seem to tend to get off topic when I'm going on about my master. I'm not about to tell you of my master's history, but of my own history instead.

I'm supposing those of you reading this have read some of Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. Well, I'm not here to tell you of that part of my history as not only is the general gist of it summed up in that book (though not entirely accurate), but that most of you probably already know of it.

No, what I'm here to tell you about is how I became what I am today; how the Hellsings experimented on me, turning me into the monster that I am today…

_November 10, 1897_

_The capture of the Count was a complete success—however, due to the nature of this beast, even when seemingly dead—we must take caution when bringing him back to England so as not to disturb his unconscious slumber. Having him out and running rampant on the streets again would not be a good idea, at least, not yet anyways. I really don't want to go on another seven-month wild goose chase to capture him again, not that he can really do anything at the moment._

_People will call me insane because of this, more than likely, but let them talk! I have no interest in their petty rumors. Besides, they won't be laughing if they ever figure out what I have in store for this creature—a much more wonderful plan than throwing him aside to rot, even though they bugs probably won't even try to taste his flesh, nonetheless come near it. No, this is a much better plan; a plan where the Count can be put to much use by humankind…_

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

I am only vaguely aware of this day, but then again, having a wooden stake driven through your heart tends to do things like that to you. I can only remember snippets of Van Helsing's thoughts while I lay in that coffin. Well, that and feeling somewhat sick to my stomach. Vampires were definitely not meant to be water-dwelling creatures. Even though my kind can get across running water by taking the soil of their homeland with them, water still does not agree with us, making us a little seasick. I had obviously been no exception back then before I had been made (or "enhanced" as Abraham might say) into what I am today; the living embodiment of undead perfection. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I had developed my telepathy long before this, so catching some of Van Helsing's thoughts wasn't that much of a big deal, even if it was unintentional, seeing as I was half dead and all. But even then, I still heard fewer thoughts than I usually did. That's the thing about the Hellsings; they can have very strong mind barriers if they concentrate hard enough.

I must admit though, out of the few thoughts that I managed to catch, some of them disturbed me greatly, not only because I couldn't seem to connect one thought to another to come up with a complete idea I could actually understand, but also because I had a feeling that his thoughts had to do with me and something I wouldn't quite enjoy. But me, being the idiot that I was back then, waved it off as something that didn't pose that much of a threat, and didn't think about it again until I arrived in England. I learned to trust my gut instincts after how wrong I was.

_November 13, 1897, morning_

_We arrived in England yesterday morning. Very convenient timing, I must say, as I could get straight to work on my plans as soon as nightfall hit. The Count still hadn't stirred by this time, and I was worried that I truly might have killed him, but no, as when we pulled back the lid off of that wretched coffin when we reached home, there he was, asleep like a baby with a serene expression on his face. Albeit, he still needed to be cleaned up quite a bit so I wouldn't have to see his own and others' old blood caked all over him. Lord knows he is gruesome enough now as it is._

_I must admit, I could not wait for nightfall to begin…_

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

I could. I _definitely _could have waited for nightfall to hit. Hell, I now wish that it had never come in the first place.

I remember when that dreadful cover of darkness fell and I heard the top of my coffin being pushed to the side; the feel of that wretched wooden stake being pulled out of my heart. Needless to say, both actions were rather uncomfortable when I was just sleeping peacefully where I was supposed to be, minding my own business.

I had stirred and opened my eyes, and I must say, coming face to face with your murderer is quite the wake up call. At the sight of my enemy, a growl escaped my throat, and quite a pathetic one at that, and could you blame me? One usually cannot produce a menacing growl after just coming back from the verge of death, so to speak.

"Well, well," Van Helsing had said, "it's nice to finally see you up and awake, Count."

I made a move to lash out at him, but I realized I couldn't. I was too weak; too helpless. It disgusts me to think of it now; being in such a vulnerable state.

"Now, now, my No Life King. Let us not get too rash, shall we?" Van Helsing suggested, a hint of a mocking tone in his voice. "Besides, I'd like you to hear me out; to hear what I have to offer you. You can at least do that much, can't you?"

As if I had any choice in the matter! I couldn't even move I was so hungry and injured. Where would I be going where I _wouldn't _have to listen to him?

"Why…" I rasped, pausing to wet my cracked and parched lips. "Why didn't you leave me to die in peace?"

A snort escaped him.

"You? You, the once mighty No Life King, is asking to die? I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Just state what you want, you bastard."

"Impatient today, aren't we? Well, since you insist, I have a proposition for you, Count. My proposition is this: I will let you live if you agree to serve my family as long as there is a Helsing heir present."

"Have you gone insane, Abraham? You know I'd never let myself be bound by servitude to you!" I said, trying to turn my words into a tone of short, barking laughter, but failing miserably, only succeeding in producing a scratchy croak instead.

A resounding "bang" penetrated my ears. Van Helsing's hands had hit the side of my coffin, much in the same way my current master slams her hands down onto her desk whenever she loses her temper. I bet many of you can now venture a guess as to where she gets that little personality quirk from.

"You really don't have a choice in the matter at the moment! You _will _serve my family in any way it sees fit, No Life King!" Van Helsing roared, enraged; his nostrils flaring.

I have to admit, I was expecting as much.

"Then why the hell are you even asking?" I queried, agitated. He had woken me up for _this_?

"Because I wanted to make it at least _seem _like you had a choice!" he responded, still shouting at what was probably the top of his lungs.

"Well, its obviously not working as smoothly as you would have liked it to, is it?" I mockingly asked back.

Even when looking death straight in the eye, I still manage to have the nerve to spout backtalk. To be honest though, it's never proved as helpful than it is harmful to myself.

"Then prepare to suffer the consequences, you poor excuse for a midian," Van Helsing had said in anything barely more than a whisper, but the sharpness of his words, even when laced behind such a soft tone, told me that his dangerous intent was still there, lingering just below the surface.

The still bloody stake had been raised above his head at that point, and once again, it had come down upon my heart, plunging my world into darkness once more.

_November 14, 1897, midnight_

_The placement of the control art restriction system seals is complete, though we can't call it a complete success as of yet as I fear an instability inside of the seals' inner workings. Some side effects might occur as well until our vampire "pet" gets adjusted to them or at least until a better quality restriction system has been developed. I suspect that disorientation, drowsiness, nausea, vomiting, and prolonged hunger (which, to a vampire, commonly causes hostility and violence) will be the ones that we should be out on the lookout for, just in case they prove a little too strenuous on the Count. However, how many or how little symptoms the Count will suffer from still remains a complete mystery to me. I presume we shall find out soon enough, as his wooden stake that was once embedded in him by my own hand has once again been pulled out and removed, so he should be waking up presently. All I can do at the moment now is to wait. I must wait. Wait and pray…_

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

I remember waking up, and for a moment, I didn't know who or where I was. The room was just a colorful, spinning blur, and I had trouble regaining a hold back onto my bearings. The only good news at the moment was that I was somehow still alive and strong enough to move again. Looking back on that day now, it makes me wonder who, or what, fed me. Whose blood had I taken? Well, whosever it was, it obviously wasn't very filling due to the hunger that was gnawing at my stomach at that time. I now suspect, with the symptoms I had felt, it was probably the blood of some animal's. Animal blood never is as filling as human blood is. But I wasn't really too concerned with that at the time.

I had heard footsteps at that moment and pushed myself up into a sitting position. Where the hell was I? Was I back at home?

After taking in a taste of the air, a low growl rose up in the back recesses of my throat. Helsing…

I knew that smell anywhere. A vampire never forgets the stench of the mortal enemies he encounters.

Red crossed my vision. What was Van Helsing doing here?! What was he trying to accomplish by skulking around at night in my private lair?! He must have finally lost it and snapped. After all, everybody knew that taking on a vampire in the middle of the night was a rather stupid thing to do.

That had brought a smile to my lips. At last, I could now finally rid myself of his pestilence once and for all. But then reality hit me full in the face. I was still residing in the dungeon of the Helsing manor. I had gone nowhere.

He halted in his advance to stand in front of me, and for those few long seconds of silence, we just stared (or glared in my case) each other down.

"Are you feeling any better, Vampire?" he asked me, a smile adorning his lips.

I hissed in response and angrily lashed out a hand to try and take his head off, snarling. But Abraham just stood there, unmoving, that same sick and twisted smile plastered on his face.

At first, I couldn't figure out why he wasn't running away screaming or, at the very least, reaching for his crucifix, but then I felt it; a tight constricting feeling, a hold around my body that would have suffocated and cut a normal human's circulation off. But I didn't need to perform those meaningless human bodily functions to live, because, as you well know, I am not human, nor am I normal. Hell, I'm not even alive. But soon, that pressure turned into a horrible burning sensation, like a crucifix of solid silver was being pressed against my skin.

I admit that I didn't even try to suppress the agonizing cry of pain that was wrenched from my lips. I only had a single thought in those few seconds of sheer brutality: _It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Please. It hurts._

But it didn't stop. It didn't stop at all.

Flesh was burned away from my face. Bones were exposed; an empty shell of what used to be. Eventually, I just stopped trying to have the strength to resist what was hurting me anymore…whatever it was.

I remember I kept thinking: _If I truly die, will that stop the pain? Will that release me from my own personal Hell?_

And then it was gone, just as quickly as it had come. It was as if all those few seconds of pain and struggling had turned into hours; the endless vortex of eternity. As soon as I had surrendered myself and gave in, all the pain, all the cruelty, and all the inhumane treatment stopped. All I had to do was relent in my rage and madness, and my punishment would be halted in its tracks. If that was all I had to do though, then I was in for quite a rough ride, as I was definitely not someone who relented easily, especially in the hands of my worst enemy. And speaking of hands…when I looked down at my own gloved ones, something about them had changed. What on earth were restrictive seals doing on my gloves? Those definitely weren't there before. But then my brain finally put two and two together. The pain, the constricting; all of those tortures had something to do with the seals now residing on my personage.

"What did you do to me?!" I had raged. "Damn you, Helsing! What did you do?! Answer me, you filthy human!"

My rage hadn't lasted for very long though, as the room spun around me once again, causing me to lean over the side of my coffin and heave what little contents I had in my empty stomach onto the stone floor with a sickening "squelch".

"Hmm…It seems we still have quite a few kinks left to work out of those control art restriction seals," Van Helsing said, hand rubbing his chin, a sign I later learned that meant he was in deep thought. "Oh, and those side effects will wear off as soon as you get used to the seals placed upon you, Count," he added offhandedly, as if it was an afterthought. "And I do hope that mess that you just made gets cleaned up."

He chuckled to himself at his own joke as if finding something highly amusing about it.

I never did figure out why he found my vomit so humorous.

"You didn't answer my question," I growled weakly, my stomach still churning.

"Ah yes, that," Van Helsing said, turning his attention back towards me. "That would be a type of control art restriction system seal. Those seals do exactly what they sound like they do—they keep your dark magics under control. After all, we can't have you running around wild without your leash on, can we, hm?"

I snarled in response. He had been mocking me!

"The seals work on seven different levels, excluding the full power release level of zero," he continued. "The lower the number, the higher the power level will be and how much of your power will be relinquished by the seal. You, yourself, Count, can control this. However, so can your master, and said master must approve of the release if you decide to activate it yourself, so don't think you are off the hook just quite yet. Of course, I don't feel like I need to explain what happens when you refuse or disobey orders and retaliate against your master as it seems you have already figured it out." And with that, he had turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving me in my newly found pain and misery. Needless to say, I was furious and screamed back at him in German, completely forgetting my spoken English.

"_Ich werde Sie verdammen, Helsing!_" (1)

I could hear his laughter fading as he walked farther away from the door. It was that laughter that sealed my fate and caused the wheels of my destruction to turn…

_(1) Literally means, "I will condemn you, Helsing", but can also be used as a rough translation for "damn you"._

**Author's Note: I would first like to thank my step-grandfather for helping me with the German. Without him, I probably would have messed it up somehow. Also, while this was intended to be a oneshot, I felt this story would go on a little bit too long and test people's patience, so I decided to split it up into chapters for easier reading. And, of course, constructive criticism is encouraged.**


	2. Experiment II

Revised: 1.28.07

**Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to its respective creator and companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

"_The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties; he could no longer raise himself; his legs struggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death."_

-Virginia Woolf, _"The Death of the Moth"_

_November 16, 1897, morning_

_I was up all of last night redefining the seals placed upon the Count, and even now, hours after the procedure's completion, the blood of the Count still stains my hands and his inhuman screams still ring in my ears. As such, this is proof to how messy the ceremony was and how painful it was to the Count, not like the latter part matters all that much. However, I thank the Holy Father that the Count was out cold right after my assistants and I were finished with him. In two days' time, he will be ready for the start of experimentation._

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

Ah yes, this day is still burned as vividly in the back of my mind as if it was just yesterday. The only thing that could describe that night was _pain; horrible, agonizing pain_, and that was only the tip of the ice burg as, of course, I had no idea what was in store for me then, so the experimentation came as quite the surprise to me. But that, however, comes a bit later.

The moon was ironically full that night, I remember, and even though no openings to the outside world were found inside my confines, I could still sense it…I can always sense it. All my kind can if they focus on that particular aspect enough.

I hadn't been fed that day, and having vomited back up what little I was given the day before, I was quite irate, or at least more so than usual. So, when the door to my prison cell was swung open, my mouth was literally watering from the smell of live prey filled with the intoxicating substance of human blood. I wanted—no, _needed_—whoever was opening that door, and I was prepared to stop at nothing to sink my fangs into the warm flesh of that person's throat.

Of course, as you can imagine, my first reaction upon someone entering my room while I was starving was to fling myself upon them and pin them to the cold, hard stones that made up the dungeon floor.

The man on the receiving end of my actions started babbling incoherently—or at least to me—as everything seemed to become muted as bloodlust overcame me. I wrenched his head to the side, forcing it to stay that way by keeping a firm grip on his hair, licking my lips eagerly, nearly drooling with the anticipation that was surging through my body.

Sound came crashing down back to me as I tore through the skin and ligaments of the man's neck, the agonizing scream that escaped his lips bringing music to my ears. They hadn't heard that sweet melody of fear in so long. That music, however, was nothing compared to the sweet liquid that was flowing into my mouth through the reversal of his innocent human bloodstream. After being deprived of such a substance for so long, I was practically drowning in ecstasy at that point. I closed my eyes, becoming oblivious to the rest of the outside world, paying attention only to the sweet, crimson liquid that I felt gliding over my tongue.

Looking back, I must say that I had fed rather sloppily that night, tearing through chunks of skin and muscle with complete and utter abandon, greedily trying to obtain as much blood as I could get at a single time.

If I hadn't been so preoccupied at the time, I might have noticed them sooner, but before I knew what was happening, I was suddenly wrenched from my victim, screaming in frustration, blood still dribbling in rivulets down my chin. I was still hungry, God damn it! I wanted to finish—to have my fair share. Nobody was going to claim what was rightfully mine, and there would be hell to pay if they did. Nobody could drink from him but me! He was mine!

A gunshot suddenly reverberated throughout the room. Somebody had obviously shot the poor fool—probably to keep him from turning into a ghoul, no doubt. To be honest though, I was hoping that they would have forgotten about that. After all, even just one ghoul on my side would give me somewhat of an advantage, at least. But of course, such things are never to be.

More hands had pulled me back while I struggled in vain as my senses picked up Van Helsing entering the room. He kicked the man onto his back upon his arrival, making a sort of clucking noise with his tongue.

"I had a feeling this would happen," he sighed, shaking his head, "but I guess it was inevitable."

He turned to me then, a look of utter disgust upon his face, and I snarled in response, wanting badly to tear his throat out. Again, just like the day before, a wave of nausea washed over me, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to expel another one of my meals again.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath when the nausea finally passed, glaring up at Abraham.

"Bring Richardson's body upstairs and send a letter to his wife saying that there's been a rather unfortunate accident. I'll stay down here and deal with the Count," he barked towards two of his assistants, his eyes never breaking contact with my own, but completely ignoring my gaze of loathing.

I saw the two men run up the stairs hastily, clumsily dragging what was left of Richardson with them. Some respect for the dead they had. Then again, I was technically dead as well and didn't get any kind of respect whatsoever, so who was I to complain?

"That was a very rash thing for you to do, Count," he stated nonchalantly, acting like my actions were not that big of a deal, and it probably wasn't, considering his thoughts told me he never much liked the man anyway and that he still had many more assistants left, all of which he considered expendable in this situation. In truth, he was just as insensitive as I, and he was the one calling _me_ a monster. Besides, I'm sure he would have done the exact same thing if he were in my place instead.

"However," Van Helsing continued, "not to worry. You won't be doing such things for much longer."

My first reaction to this was to shoot a snide remark back at him, but since I was still feeling queasy, I decided it would be best if I kept my mouth shut.

Van Helsing looked at me a while longer before turning to the group of assistants behind me and giving them a small nod. There was a sharp, stinging pain in my side then, and everything went black.

---

My senses were reeling as I had slowly regained consciousness and trying to get a hold back on my bearings. In the background, I heard muttering around me, but my head was throbbing so badly that I could not make anything out of it in the haze of my muddled senses. What I did notice, however, was the strong metallic smell of blood, obviously my own, as it reeked of the stench of something old and rotting.

I forced my eyes to open, which was a mistake as it added a wave of nausea to all the other symptoms I felt. I might as well not have opened them anyway as everything I saw was basically all just fuzzy blobs, though the smell of my captors betrayed their identities.

"Where the hell am I?" I tried asking weakly, but what came out was a wet gurgle, the taste of my own blood welling up in the back of my throat—and, as I mentioned before, my blood's not the best thing in the world to experience in one's lifetime (or lack thereof, in my case).

"He's awake, Abraham," a fuzzy blob to my right said. "What should we do?"

"Continued as planned, of course," came the response from somewhere near my left side. "It does not matter if he is awake or not, just as long as it gets done. Oh, and make sure you keep your fingers away from his chompers. He still has the power to bite."

Amused chuckles rang throughout the room, and I remember thinking, _I'll show you the power of my chompers, you bastard,_ but was quite incapable of voicing my thoughts vocally at the moment.

A low, but pathetic growl reverberated low in my throat—a result of my frustration—and all eyes in the room became fastened on to me, and for the first time, I noticed knife blades glinting in the light. How I knew they were blades, I still do not know, seeing how everything was just one giant blur, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew they were probably silver-plated. Great… Those were going to be a _joy_ to work with.

Ignoring the stares, my eyes frantically moved around the room taking on my new surroundings that I was capable of seeing at the moment, and finally rested upon an object that was coming sharply into focus; object that was all to familiar to me…a giant golden cross.

I gave off a hiss of contempt at the artifact as I looked up at it, radiating waves of loathing. In all its holy glory, it stood over me as if mocking my fate. It just wasn't fair! I, who had fought wars in His name, who had never asked for anything in return, seemed to be punished by Him Himself. I was His most loyal subject in my time and this was what I received in return.

I immediately pried my eyes away from the crucifix before memories I didn't want to remember started coming back to me. Some things are better left buried under centuries of their history. Some things should never be dug up again. The emotional impact of their remembrance is sometimes just too painful for some to bear the feeling of. That emotional scar is still with me to this day… But that is a story for another time, however.

An awful burning sensation jolted me out of my musings and threw me unpleasantly back down to earth.

Immediately, I began to struggle to try and get away from what was causing the burning, but pain soon shot up my arms and legs. I whipped my head to the side and realized that stakes had been hammered through my hands and ankles.

Well, this was a pinch.

"Watch it!" Van Helsing warned his assistants. "Hold him down. We don't want him to injure himself more than necessary."

No more than necessary? Then how much _was_ necessary? Besides, I was already injured. What harm could a little more do?

Four pairs of hands grabbed my upper arms and legs, holding me down so the stakes that impaled me wouldn't get pulled through. Unfortunately, they were all smart enough to stay well away from my teeth after Van Helsing's warning.

"Damn you, Abraham," I managed to choke out, blood welling up in the back of my throat again. "God damn you."

"Hold your tongue, Vampire!" Van Helsing spat. "We are in the House of the Lord. You might do well to show some respect. After all, it is His decision alone to decide whether I am to be condemned, is it not?"

I remember I had heard something in the back of my brain after he said that saying, _God no longer gives a damn, Abraham,_ and I quite agreed with it. Whoever tells you that God cares for His people is lying. I hadn't associated myself with God for hundreds of years, and even when I did, He had yet to raise a finger to end my suffering.

My thoughts were once again broken up at the sensation of a horrible pain starting from my abdomen and ripping upward towards my chest. I bit down on my lip to keep myself from crying out, blood being drawn in the process.

Glancing around me again, the gleam of the blades was caught by the corner of my eye and I noticed a wet, bright red streak running across one of them. It was blood…my blood.

There was more pain, more blood, as those silver-plated knives ripped through my skin, cutting the emblem of the restriction seals into my flesh. The cuts did not heal. To this day, I still have the faint remainders of those scars, though only a select few know about them.

When the ripping and tearing finally desisted, I didn't dare to relax. I couldn't have relaxed, even if I'd wanted to. All I could do when in so much pain was to just lie there and shake uncontrollably underneath my captors' restraining hands. It hurt even to breathe, my body was under so much stress, even though breathing had already turned into a habit a long time ago. Then the chanting began.

It dredged up memories from centuries ago, and I unconsciously began to recite the prayer as well, completely unaware of the pain slowly coming back to me as I was not yet immune to listening to Holy Scripture at that time. In my mind, the chanting gave me a sense of ease, reminding me of when I was just like everyone else—when I was still human.

My spilt blood took on a glow of molten gold and I began to become more aware of the pain as it reached a fever pitch inside of me. I didn't try to suppress my screams this time around when the agony overwhelmed me. From experience, I can tell you that there is such a thing as pain beyond pain, as that was what I felt during that time. Never had I felt such agony before.

"In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation…Amen…"

The last verse of the prayer escaped from my bloodied lips before consciousness slipped away from me. But to say that certain verse was pointless. I was already damned.

_November 16, 1897, dusk_

_The Count has been awake for about four hours now and is currently resting again at present, I believe._

_The first hour or so when he was awake he spent purging himself of the excess magic the sealing ritual produced, which was to be expected. However, when I came in to check up on him, fear flashed through his eyes and he immediately scrambled to the back of the dungeon, cowering in the corner. He still has yet to speak._

_While I'm not entirely sure, I believe the ritual has temporarily damaged his usual thought patterns and behaviors, so he is running purely on animalistic instinct until then. Therefore, I have told my staff that they are to stay as far away from the dungeon unless I tell them otherwise as I cannot predict how he will react to other humans. I have already lost one assistant and I have no desire to lose any more._

_Ms. Mina Harker came over to visit with her husband quite unexpectedly this afternoon and asked how everything was going with regards to the Count. When I replied that everything was going along with the majority of the plan, she requested that she go and see him. While both Jonathan and I were strongly against it, she persisted and we both eventually gave in._

_When we entered, the Count acted surprisingly indifferent towards Ms. Harker, though I am not yet sure why as she was the one he was the most interested in. Maybe it was because she eventually became his downfall, but again, this is just pure speculation._

_Mina told us to leave her so she could speak with him, despite my protests that he hadn't spoken in hours and might be incapable of it at the moment, but again, her husband and I relented to her wishes and left her to her own devices, but kept near the door in case we heard something unusual. But we needn't have worried as she returned about two minutes later, completely unscathed, but she did refuse to speak of her encounter with the Count. We have only to wonder what transpired between the two down in the dungeon…_

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

The day after the sealing ritual was pure torture when I woke up, especially with Mina stopping by for an unexpected visit. She was the last person I wanted to see at that time since it was she who put me in this unfortunate position in the first place.

The pain from the night before began again as soon as I had opened my eyes, my stomach churning from all the excess magic contained within it. Needless to say, I needed to find some way to rid myself of it and get my powers properly balanced once again.

Purging myself of such energies was a rather unpleasant task as most of the time all I could manage was dry heaves, taking about an hour within itself, and I still felt sick for hours afterwards, which was mainly the reason why I didn't feel much like talking.

Van Helsing was correct though in assuming that I was running purely on animalistic instinct, as I did try and get as far away as possible from him when he came down to check up on me, much like how a rabbit, after being exposed to the dangers of a fox, quickly learns to avoid the creature.

Going through that ritual was one times too many for me. If Van Helsing came anywhere near me, I was prepared to fight tooth and nail to get out of whatever he was going to do to me, even if I wasn't feeling all that well.

It wasn't long after that that I smelled Mina's faint scent emanating from somewhere in the house. The perfume-like smell used to make my mouth water, but now such a reaction is no longer. Being betrayed by someone who you were once infatuated with tends to put a damper on one's relationship.

I wasn't exactly surprised when the dungeon door opened to reveal Van Helsing's little trio, but I wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. In fact, I was actually dreading it. Of all people, _Mina_ was the one that wanted to speak to me, which, I'll admit, was rather an unexpected turn of events.

So, when Mina finally convinced Van Helsing and her husband to leave her be, we were finally alone again, just like so many months before.

She started walking cautiously towards me, and looking back on the situation now, I have to feel sorry for her as the dungeon smelled awful after I had purged myself of the excess energies contained within me, but either she didn't say anything of it or didn't notice. I've always suspected that it was the former of the two as the smell unseated me somewhat, as well.

When she was about three feet away, she hesitantly crouched down about three feet away from me, carefully avoiding my many puddles of sick.

"Count?" Though phrased as a question, it seemed like she didn't know what to do with the word now that she had said it, almost as if it had tumbled out of her lips unbidden. "Count, can you hear me?"

I slowly looked up from the stone floor at the sound of her addressing me, and I could literally smell the fear rolling off of her in waves. Not that I blame her—she had reason to be afraid.

"Can you speak?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I replied, my voice raspy from all the purging I'd done earlier. It hurt to get the words out.

"How has the professor been treating you?"

I gave a harsh bark of laughter.

"Look around you Ms. Harker. How do you think your noble professor's been treating me?"

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip.

"You should be, this was all of your fault in the first place."

A hurt expression came over her features, and I dimly noticed that I no longer cared. She had betrayed me, so why should I have given her anything pleasant in return?

Vengeance has always been a close friend of mine.

"What have they been doing to you?"

I shrugged and raised the back of my hands towards her so she could clearly see the bloodstained seals now permanently etched onto my being, and a look of sympathy passed over her face. I frowned at that. I didn't need her sympathy. Such feelings were for the weak and undeserving.

An unnerving silence hung in the air after that and I began to grow tired of her presence. Patience has never been one of my stronger points.

"Leave," I told her, my tone bitter. "Abraham and your _beloved_ husband are waiting for you. I no longer have interest in your sordid affairs and you need not concern yourself with my well-being."

When she didn't move, I continued, "It would be wise of you to go quickly. I haven't eaten in two days and I do so wish to quench my thirst."

That got her moving.

With a small squeak, she hurried away, but not before glancing behind her before shutting the dungeon door with a snap, leaving me to seal my own doom…

**Author's Note:** **Constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated.**


	3. Experiment III

**Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to its respective creator and companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

"_A person who forgoes the use of his symbolic skills is never really free."_

-Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, _"Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience"_

_November 19, 1897, morning_

_We delayed experimentation set for yesterday to today just as a precautionary measure in case the Count was still too weak. However, my worries were all for naught, as when I went to check on him yesterday morning, he was back to sleeping quietly in his coffin—an empty bottle abandoned on the floor next to him that was originally filled with his ration of blood for the day before._

_We began experimentation at midnight, subjecting him to garlic—something light to start out with before heavy experimentation begins._

_We started out just by recording the results of his reactions around the smell of the garlic and then later moved on to him actually consuming it. The results weren't a pleasant sight to look upon, not to mention that the smell did absolutely nothing to improve the situation._

_Going along with Darwin's Theory of Evolution, if subjected to something that hinders one's survival, the body should adapt to compensate for that reaction. As such, small amounts of garlic will be added to his daily blood ration while increasing that amount gradually every other week. The results will then be recorded and compared to those taken before to see if there has been any improvement at the end of each month._

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

Indeed, subjecting me to garlic wasn't a pretty sight.

They had chained me to the basement wall before I had even become fully awake.

At first, I couldn't figure out why I wasn't able to break through such chains as I normally could, as they weren't silver, but then it struck me—a restraining spell. Nevertheless, I thrashed about anyway just to make it harder in spite of them.

Like always, I had no idea what Abraham had in store for me, and I only managed to get useless snippets of his assistants' thoughts, as Van Helsing had probably told them to make sure their minds were empty of anything pertaining to my experimentation.

So, when the smell of garlic being brought into the room reached my olfactory nerves, I wasn't at all prepared for it.

My eyes began to water and wretched gagging sounds started spewing out of the back of my throat. I fought the horrible urge to vomit, though I wasn't sure if I could retain my hold on that for much longer.

I didn't like the smell of garlic to begin with as a human and I still don't like it now, not that you could blame me—awful stuff.

I was still a little drowsy then, so it took a few seconds for me to register the feel of hands holding me down. I expected the blood sample, as that was a procedure performed every other day, but when my jaw was forced open and garlic powder poured down my throat, a large jolt to my system snapped my eyes open to what—I expect—were the size of dinner plates. However, it was too late. Garlic touched my tongue and before I could do anything, I heard Van Helsing's voice:

"Don't you dare vomit that back up, Count. That's an order."

Despite how much my body needed to purge itself, the seals pressed down on me, activated by Van Helsing's order.

I don't know how long I was watched, and during that time, I didn't rightly care—I was more concerned with the burning feeling residing in my gut, nose, and throat. My eyes were watering and my vision was blurring. Eventually, the room began to spin.

And then there was nothing…

---

My slumber was restless throughout the next day, but no one had come in to wake me up. Even if they did, they probably couldn't—not when I was dreaming for the first time in so long.

There was this woman—tall, alert, and with an aura of honor and pride about her. She was of a darker complexion, maybe from Indian descent, but her light hair told stories of the English. Her back was ramrod straight and she was shouting orders to someone named "Alucard".

It didn't make any damn sense!

When her eyes finally locked on to mine, something in my brain clicked. Those cold, clear eyes were the same as Van Helsing's themselves! As soon as this revelation occurred to me, the world came into sharp focus—my eyes snapping open.

It wasn't until later—much later—that I had not dreamt, but had unconsciously procured a premonition of my future master.

That is a story all unto itself, however, so there is no point for me to go into it at the moment.

All those thoughts were suddenly shoved aside roughly as that horrible burning sensation deep within the pit of my stomach began again. While the symptoms of garlic were not nearly as horrid as the day before, they still made my head spin.

I…cannot really describe what had happened next, but all of the blood and garlic from the day before, along with some of my stomach's own bile, rushed up into my throat where it was then expelled out of my lips, washing over my tongue in the process. Needless to say, I wasn't fast enough and made a mess of myself (as if I wasn't enough of a mess already). It wasn't until later that I realized this fact, though.

Almost immediately after my involuntary purging, I felt the hard press of the restriction seals for the second time.

I had technically disobeyed my orders given to me previously, but really, did it warrant punishment due to a natural reaction on my part?

I don't really remember all that much after that due to memory impairment from some thing or another that Abraham did, but I had more is store for me; this much I knew. So much more…

_November 23, 1897, dusk_

_The experimentation with the garlic powder was both a failure and a success. The Count did not hold up on his part, however._

_When we found him, unconscious and involuntarily twitching, he was covered in vomit that must have been expelled only ten minutes prior. I left one of my assistants to clean up while I took a sample of what was on the floor. Much of it, I have found, is just blood, bile, and plasma, but pieces of undigested garlic were apparent._

_This has created the need for another study, as the amount of garlic didn't nearly equal the amount of the powder given to him three nights ago. Also, what had caused the powder to turn into solid pieces and where had the rest of the garlic gone? Certainly he did not digest it, as vampires cannot perform that bodily function, but his physiology has become quite the mystery as of late, so that should have been expected._

_I am still shaken to the core from last night's events, and again, the Count's screams follow me even in my slumber._

_Dissection has begun in preparation for sunlight resistance. We plan to study pieces of his organs (excluding his heart for the moment due to the significant risk it poses at present) to somehow quell his sensitivity as well as whatever causes it. But those inhuman screams…_

_No, I mustn't let such a trivial thing bother me. He is not human, nor is he alive, so I can spare no sympathy. I can only wait until the cultivation stage has finished before I start anything else._

_At this point, only time will tell._

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

Every so often, I find myself dreaming of this day—of my dissection—and every time, a high-pitched scream is wrenched from my lips.

While my current master has become indifferent with this occurrence, she still sends down a blood packet or two as I always feel as starved as the day the event actually took place. The police girl, on the other hand, ran from the dungeon screaming (and from what my master says, babbling incoherently as well), causing all the soldiers of Hellsing to erupt into a panicked frenzy. She can be such a complete fool at times.

But enough about them. I must breach the topic at hand, no matter how painful it is for me to tell this to you.

I don't know how long I was out nor how long it was until Van Helsing and his assistants found me, but when I regained my reeling senses and gotten a firm hold on my bearings, I yet again found myself chained to a wall, though this time I was in what I later found out was one of Van Helsing's experimental laboratories. They must have taken every precaution known to man, using silver chains and shackles reinforced with iron, and the manacle around my neck prevented me from doing any danger to others and, more likely, to myself. Believe me, if I could have gnawed my own arm off in even a sliver of a chance to escape, I would have. As I've said before, I wanted nothing to do with Van Helsing's experiments or whatever else he had planned for me.

I couldn't have done anything if I had wanted to either (and I certainly did), as I was too groggy and exhausted. My senses were so out of alignment that I couldn't even feel the silver burning into my flesh, nor the smell of smoke as scorched layers of skin were removed, causing the shackles to meet bare bone, and even then it didn't stop there.

I was in Hell. A slow, agonizing, never-ending Hell. And speaking of which…

Van Helsing's face swam into focus and I must have looked positively—what do you humans call it nowadays? Drugged?—as I caught the word "pitiful" emerge from his lips. When he began to speak to me directly, however, his voice was faint, like the last hint of an echo bouncing off the walls in a dark coordoor.

"You are to stay compliant for the entirety of this procedure and offer no resistance. Do I make myself clear, Servant?"

I inwardly cringed at the title. Was I not once royalty? Never should I have been called someone else's inferior. But I digress, I was smart enough to keep those thoughts to myself and, like a good pet, I rasped, "Yes…my master…"

The last word tasted almost foreign on my tongue, and I honestly didn't mean to say it—it just forced its way past my lips without my notice.

Great… So it seemed the seals were finally up and running from being properly adjusted. Those were going to be an enjoyment for me throughout the years. That is…if I managed to last that long.

I was soon cut off from the world with the first wave of pain across my midsection. I looked down, and what I saw disturbed even me—and I had seen a lot in my lifetime.

My entire gut had been sliced open, my stomach and intestines clearly visible, the latter of which were beginning to spill out. I felt whatever blood was left in my face leaving me and I started to feel sick.

Being a vampire, the sight of blood and gore has never bothered me since I work with it on a daily basis, but seeing my own innards for the first time was another matter entirely.

An assistant with a large saw stepped towards me and roughly jerked my head down, blocking the rest of my view. I knew what was going to happen and wanted to struggle, but I couldn't. I was not allowed. There was the sickening sound of metal grinding against bone as a sharp, blinding, absolutely unbearable pain spread across my temple. The world spun around me—and then faded—before I was engulfed completely by the warm blanket of unconsciousness once again.

_November 25, 1987, midnight_

_The cultivation stage is almost complete, and soon we will be able to start the in-depth examination and adaptation implementation._

_The Count is still motionless at present, and at first I feared that I had truly killed him, but no, this wasn't the case as I heard an unmistakable low growl emerge from his coffin when I came down for a status report._

_I must say, I do pity him, somewhat. Whether he realized he was screaming throughout the whole procedure, even when unconscious, I do not know. Some of my assistants still have nightmares that make them physically ill or make them hear the Count's screams ringing in their ears once again. Many are afraid to close their eyes at all in fear of encountering these symptoms, and thus have gotten little to no sleep._

_Tomorrow, everything will be better. I can only hope._

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

No, I didn't realize I was screaming that night, though I can imagine I was. And honestly, you couldn't really blame me. The whole procedure, as I have mentioned before, was all rather painful—and even that's putting it mildly.

I became fully conscious two days after the dissection, and while everything had healed itself (I later learned Abraham had given me some sort of mixture of blood and medicine to speed up the process of the reparation of the wounds), whenever I looked down, I still saw my innards, and each time I began to feel sick to my stomach.

I cannot say I remained conscious throughout the next few days, however. Due to disorientation and sheer exhaustion, I wound up alternating from consciousness to random intervals of sleep. I honestly don't believe it was even intentional, but something that just happened without warning. I was tired. So very, very tired. I feel groggy just thinking about it, now.

There really is not that much to say concerning the next few days and I frequently lost track of the time and wasn't exactly fully aware of my surroundings, so I'm going to jump ahead a little bit.

It was the next week, I think, when the cultures were ready, and the results were interesting, to say the least.

By the time Abraham came down to perform another routine status check, I was so pitifully weak and weary that my hair had lost its pigmentation and my skin had taken on a sickly, ashen-grey color.

I'm sure Van Helsing noticed, but more than likely didn't really care. After all, more important things happened that evening—one that I will never forget. This was the day I received my name.

_November 30, 1897_

_My assistants and I have dubbed the creature "Alucard". Yes, the name may seem a bit obvious to those who are sharp enough and know of his origins, but for the most part, people can be rather stupid and dull at times and will never notice what is right in front of them unless it comes up and smacks them in the face._

_John Harker and his wife have not returned, and for this I am grateful for I fear that the results of my experiments—nonetheless the sight—would be too much for their innocent and relatively naïve minds to handle._

_The Count still seems weary, even though it has been five days since the dissection. This is probably because he will not drink the blood offered—and even though I can tell he desires it, he is too lethargic to move and he currently cannot swallow and keep food down long enough as well as both he and I would like. I don't know why he hasn't healed fully yet, in both body and intellect._

_I still have not yet solved the mystery of the garlic, so I have set that aside for the moment._

_Once the creature has returned to full strength, we shall start injecting him with the mercury sample that we have based off of the data we managed to collect from a piece of one of his dissected arteries._

_I can only hope that the full blow of winter holds off on its arrival just a little while longer._

_-Abraham Van Helsing_

I can never forget this day—_won't_ let myself forget this day. It is too important a chapter of my unlife to forget, as a name is a sacred thing, no matter how unimaginative and ironic it may seem.

It is the start of a whole new life.

I had heard the door opening and the heavy footfalls that I easily recognized as Van Helsing's. I was too tired to snarl at him and too encompassed by pain to engage in our usual verbal matches.

In all honestly, I just wanted to be left alone. Was that so much to ask for?

"Alucard!" The word bounced off and echoed throughout the room.

Yes, obviously it was too much to ask for.

I didn't bother replying. After all, how was I supposed to know that was to be my name from then on? Despite that, though, the word struck a cord within me, igniting a thought I had since dismissed as useless. Alucard… Now where had I heard that word before?

"Count, look at me when I speak to you!" Van Helsing demanded after a few beats of silence. He obviously wasn't in a very good mood tonight.

I struggled for a minute or two trying to prop myself into an upright position, but somehow still couldn't lift my head. Realizing that was as far as I could go, I settled on looking up at him through my eyelashes—not that I really had much of a choice in the matter.

To exhausted to speak, I sent a thought out to him:

_What do you want this time, Abraham? Come to do some more testing on me? You know that if you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer._

He smiled wryly.

"Not tonight, Alucard," he stated. "Maybe a little later, though."

_Are there any particular reasons as to why I am being called in such a manner, or is it just one of your sick fancies? _I countered back, still trying to dig up where the name had been mentioned earlier.

"It is to be your new name while you reside in my family's estate. After all, is it not fitting that you be addressed in that way as your life is soon to become backwards from all that you once knew, just like your name?" His tone was almost mocking.

_You need a blood sample again, tonight? _I asked him, abruptly changing the subject. I didn't need his taunts tonight.

"No, fortunately. I honestly don't feel like dealing with your usual difficulties at the moment."

_Good for you._

"I told you I'm in no mood for your quips tonight, Alucard."

_Forgive me, my master._

Again, the response was automatic yet still just as distasteful to say as it was before.

I paused in my thoughts for a moment, still trying to get accustomed to the use of that last word before I continued.

_I'm supposing you came down to tell me something more than that, however?_

"Indeed," Van Helsing replied, pursing his lips. "I'm a little concerned about your present condition."

_How so?_ I asked, genuinely intrigued as the matter must have been rather serious if it prompted Van Helsing to be concerned about _my_ condition, of all things.'

"There is silver in your blood, somehow, but I can't quite figure out why. I fear this might be the reason why your recovery has been mediocre, at best."

_So what do you plan to do then?_

"We'll wait a few days to see if a certain enzyme in your blood will rid of it for you."

This information was new.

_And if it gets worse? I asked._

"We're still working on that."

I lay back down and suddenly found the ceiling rather interesting. Was God still sending his wrath down upon me for incidents from ages past, or was it just that Fate had the tendency to make one frequently experience the ironic? Either way, the stakes were certainly not in my favor.

_Anything even remotely positive? _I asked, wondering where my condition was heading.

"No."

_I feel very blessed, then._

I could sense Van Helsing mentally rolling his eyes at my last remark before a faint _clink_ reached my ears.

"Next to your coffin are two bottles of blood. That is to be your ration for the month," he explained, his footsteps wandering off in the general direction of the basement's door. "I suggest you use it wisely."

And with that, there was the slam of the heavy door followed by the sounds of whatever method Van Helsing had devised for the purpose of keeping the door firmly shut. Those sounds, however, somehow managed to unlock the floodgate leading to my memories and suddenly, it hit me.

"Alucard" was the name the woman in my dream had used, but its meaning as to why it was used was still not clear. She was somehow linked to Van Helsing—that much I knew—but in what way? As far as I knew, Van Helsing didn't have any direct descendents, nor was he married. I couldn't rule out the possibility of affairs, of course. After all, I had had many in my time. But most importantly, how had she—had how I—known what my new name was to be?

These jumbled series of questions only managed to produce a large blank in my mind, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder—_what did it all mean_?

**Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry for the long delay, my dear readers. Life has the funny way of sneaking up on you and sucking your writing time up like a sponge. I feel this chapter has degraded in writing style, so any feedback on that would be much appreciated. As always, this has yet to go under a full revision, and I apologize in advance for any typos that you might find. Finally, constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Thank you for your patience.**


End file.
